


Table for Two

by phraseme



Category: Miss Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29256891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phraseme/pseuds/phraseme
Summary: It's not a date if it's for business.
Relationships: Sherlock | Futaba Sara Shelly/Tachibana Wato
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	Table for Two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lillypillylies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillypillylies/gifts).



"I don't know about this."

For the second time tonight, Wato adjusts the neckline of her dress. Sherlock isn't sure what she means—Kento's apparently had to pull a few strings to nab the reservation, but it can't be anything terrible. He wouldn't have held it over Sherlock's head otherwise, offering the reservation card with one hand and a bouquet of flowers in another. _Just in case_ , he'd said, and the familiar red light of a listening device winks at her; its antenna is cleverly hidden among the stems.

"Then order something else." Sherlock grabs the drinks menu and wonders if there's anything interesting. Wato doesn't seem like the kind of person to enjoy a glass of white, and Sherlock prefers a red wine herself.

"No, I mean—" There's an edge to Wato's voice, an element of discomfort that makes Sherlock look up from the wine list. "I'm just not used to this kind of thing."

"The restaurant? The dress?" Sherlock doesn't understand why either would provide any grounds for a complaint. It is, in every objective sense, a better dress than the one Wato was wearing earlier, eminently more suited to the setting. ( _You're not wearing that_ , Sherlock had said, her nose wrinkling at Wato's plain, cotton-linen blend shirtdress. _There's no aesthetic complement here_.) Their table is nestled away in a corner with Sherlock's back to the wall, a perfect vantage point with views of the restaurant entry and the doors to the kitchen.

"Both," Wato says quietly, and gives a sheepish smile. "I don't think I can afford even a glass of water here."

Sherlock rolls her eyes. "Of course you can't. _La Liste_ put this establishment in its Top Ten this year, and the chef is a Michelin star recipient several times over. There's a reason why our suspect picked this place," she reminds her, watching the pink flush grow on Wato's cheeks. "And anyway," Sherlock continues, picking up a silver fork and jabbing it in Wato's direction. "You're ruining my hard work by slouching in that dress. We don't want to draw attention to ourselves."

"Easy for you to say," Wato sighs, and gestures across the table at Sherlock. "You look like someone who knows the chef personally, or something." Sherlock can't help but preen. She's wearing a Prabal Gurung to offset Wato's watercolor cocktail dress, and Wato hadn't even asked how the Dior fit her so well.

"Mm. I haven't met him, but he's cheating on his wife with a younger woman." Sherlock puts the fork down to pick up a serrated knife. Like clockwork, Wato snatches it out of Sherlock's hands. There's a much better light in Wato's eyes now. "The _maitre'd_ over there."

Wato looks scandalized. After the initial distraction, Sherlock kicks her under the table (gently, since her shoes are Yohji Yamamoto and Wato's skin is pale, easily shows bruises), steals back her knife.

"...May I take your order?" their waiter coolly inquires, and Sherlock twirls the knife in her hand before putting it down, serrated edge toward the plate. He looks like someone who's been working there for a while. Sherlock orders for them both, adds two glasses of the most expensive wines on the list just to hear Wato sputter something under her breath. Their waiter doesn't blink, merely nods before fetching the sommelier. Sherlock will need to ask them both some questions.


End file.
